Pellin knew this, had known it for centuries, but it took Mark a moment to catch Dukasti’s inference. “You mean my gift is the reason I’ve taken care of Elieve?” His mouth tightened in disapproval. “I didn’t have any choice in the matter?”
Mark’s anger deepened with Dukasti’s chuckle, but the southern Vigil member held up a hand. “Far from it, apprentice. You chose, and then your gift of devotion came to your aid, strengthening your will to undertake a difficult task.” He pointed to Pellin. “I have delved your Eldest as well. I saw how you ran back into danger when you were pursued by those the forest had claimed. You were armed with nothing more than a torch and your wits. You pride yourself on knowing when a bluff or con might succeed and when the odds are too great. Tell me, young Mark, what would make you undertake such a foolish gamble? You should have died.”
“I . . .” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”
Dukasti smiled. “I do, and I am humbled by your strength of commitment.”
“But it’s not really me,” Mark said. “It’s the gift doing the work.”
Pellin smiled, raising his hand for their attention. “Mark, my treasured apprentice, the gift doesn’t decide; it only enables the bearer to do what the bearer wishes. It provides the strength of the spirit to allow the mind and body to go beyond what they would normally do.”
They set out for Oasi the next morning, before the sun had cleared the horizon, but the soldiers did not accompany them. “Igesia permits no one to come any closer to the Maveth Desert unless their circumstances require it. The soldiers will stay here to prevent others from following.” He exhaled a deep breath that misted in the morning air. “We must ride quickly. If we cover enough ground while the horses are fresh then our trip will succeed.”
“And if we do not?” Allta asked. “The Eldest’s safety is in my care.”
Dukasti shrugged. “If the Eldest wishes to meet with Igesia, then we must brave the crossing. Igesia will not leave his contemplation of the desert.”
They rode the horses at a fast trot that ate up the miles, following Dukasti on his trail through the sand. The sun rose throughout the ride, and Pellin removed the layers of clothing that had kept him warm until only his long-sleeved shirt and linen breeches remained. “How do you know our route?” he asked during one of their stops to water the horses.
The southerner nodded. “In truth, Eldest, one can only know the approximate direction. Oasi lies almost due south of my brother’s hospitality. I correct as we go, based on our elapsed time and the position of the sun.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to map a trail or place signs?” Mark asked.
Dukasti nodded. “I’ve often wished for as much, but the sandstorms have the power to change the landscape, and we desire to keep Oasi as isolated from those who would challenge the desert as possible.”
Pellin nodded his agreement. “But Oasi is surely small enough to miss, even if you have plotted your course well.”
Dukasti pointed to the extra horse tied behind his own, the one that carried water for them all. “The pack horse carries tar-soaked wood. When we have traveled the correct time and distance, we will stop and light a signal fire. The properties of the desert that so often kill can be used to guide us to Igesia. As the desert grows hotter, the air becomes more still, until the only wind will be that of our passage. The thick black smoke of our fire will rise straight to the heavens. As one of the Vigil, I have a scrying stone that is twin to Igesia’s. He will guide us in to the last oasis.”
“I see a wall,” Elieve said behind them.
Pellin smiled in preparation for laughter. The girl’s childlike observations throughout their ride had served to distract him from the heat, but Dukasti didn’t laugh. He spun, scattering sand around his feet to stare in the direction of Elieve’s point. Horror etched his face.
“Ride!” he screamed, running toward his horse. “We must make Oasi before the storm.”
Hands clamped Pellin’s shoulders, and the world pitched as Allta threw him into his saddle before doing the same with Elieve. Dukasti had already thundered off to the south, plumes rising from the hooves of his horse. Pellin turned in his saddle and gaped.
A wall of swirling brown malevolence a thousand feet high came at them from the northwest, still distant, but even now Pellin could see billows within the storm, ugly swells as it ate up the ground. In panic, he dug his heels into the sides of his horse, too sharply. His mount reared, threatening to pitch him from the saddle. His cloak fluttered with the motion, and a glint of green caught the light as his scrying stone tumbled free to drop end over end to the ground.
Then the world pitched as his horse shied. Pellin slid from its back, searching. Dukasti, looking back and seeing him, screamed. “We must ride, Eldest!”
“The stone,” he screamed in panic. Nothing but sand and rock showed beneath his feet. “I dropped the stone.”
They circled, searching as the wind blew grit across his vision. “What color is it?” Dukasti asked.
“Green,” he said, “like the palest sea.” He looked up. “Aer, have mercy. How long will it take the storm to reach us?”
Dukasti turned to face the menacing wall, shaking his head. “I’m a child of the coast, Eldest. I don’t know. But if we cannot make the protection of Oasi before the storm hits, the sand will flay the skin from our hides.”
Chapter 39
Fear put a hand around Pellin’s chest and squeezed, keeping him from drawing a breath, as though the storm had already hit.
